


The Deeper Truth

by Hedgi



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (Cisco does not need the attempted murder but it still happened), Attempted Murder, Buried Trauma, Cecile's powers are nifty, Cisco Ramon Needs A Hug, Gen, Introspection, a little bit of pain train, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedgi/pseuds/Hedgi
Summary: "The feeling is often the deeper truth"- Augustus HareCecile Horton exercises her powers, relaxing in her office, taking in the calm, the joy, the curiosity of those around her.And then an unwelcome guest brings feelings and a truth she did not expect.Aka, how Cecile managed to get to Cisco in time, and what happened after.6 x 14 reaction fic
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	The Deeper Truth

Cecile leaned over the stack of papers on her desk and cushioned her face with her palm. She didn’t have any cases at the moment, but that didn’t mean she had no work to fret over. The conditions at Iron Height’s Metahuman Wing that had enabled Wolfe’s corruption, Ammunet’s attempted purchase of prisoners, and the deaths of a half dozen metas two years ago were under review, and she had a thing or three to say about them. It was harder, not being able to explain what she knew without outing Barry, but she was a competent lawyer who could present facts without touching on what she wanted to stay quiet, thank you very much. Still, it was exhausting work. She stretched her legs, letting the part of her mind that felt emotions stretch as well.   
  
She was getting better at keeping that part of her brain under control. Unless the emotions surrounding her were extremely vivid, she could usually keep them at bay, only feeling them if she went looking. Letting her emotional sense explore felt good, like taking off heels after a long day and kicking back in a cozy armchair in the sun. Cecile had been worried about these powers once, but now that they were a part of her… she couldn’t imagine life without them. She stood from her desk and went over to the comfortable chair in the corner. There wasn’t any sun--she kept the curtains drawn, but it was still comfortable.   
  
Her mind reached out, checking the nearby emotions like someone skimming fingers over books on a shelf. Many were familiar. Across the hall was Nash’s blend of self-importance, bitterness, resentment, and anger--a little heavier today on the arrogance, she thought, or maybe she was just getting more used to reading it. There was some anxiety from the tenant in the office below hers-- rent was due soon, which might account for it, usually whoever it was was in better spirits. Nearby, she felt… joy, no, exhilaration, someone having the time of their life… outside? That felt correct. And glee from others close at hand, probably observers as someone did a stunt on a skateboard or whatever it was kids did after school these days.   
  
Her range didn’t extend far, so she focused on the area just outside, trying to see what else she could figure out. Early on, she’d only had vague feelings--positive, negative. Anger, Sorrow, Joy. Now she could feel nuances, and it was much easier to distinguish them from her own emotions. Practice had helped her learn to keep a barrier between what others felt and her own state.   
  
Eyes closed, she continued her meditation, letting a hint of sheepishness and resignation slip by down the hall, tasting like a half-sincere apology, curiosity on its heels. She knew the feeling of curiosity, and scientific wonder, and puzzled interest as well as she knew the love of her family--like love, it lay underneath everyone in her life like a foundation, solid and dependable.   
  
And then it was gone, along with the anticipation-worry from downstairs, the elation from outside. In their places, filling up the place inside of her like a balloon blown past bursting, were two emotions, stark and contrasting, and demanding to be felt. Anger--no, that wasn’t the right word, a surge of bitterness and hatred, resentment, pride-- slammed into her like fist, but it was the fear that blinded her. It wasn’t the fear of Bloodwork’s zombies, nor was it the small fear she felt from Jenna when she saw a spider on the bedroom ceiling, or the general fears that touched at her from random passersby, every day, minor. Like white-hot lightning, this fear screamed at her, through her, clinging in a need to be heard and felt, as if the body it originated in wasn’t large enough to hold it. It wasn’t anxiety, it wasn’t worry, it wasn’t response to a phobia. Cecile struggled to breathe, to orient herself in the chair as her heart beat wildly, answering some unheard echo. Someone, someone close, was terrified, in a way she’d never felt before, not even in courtrooms facing killers, not even in the wake of what seemed to be the world ending. There was no single word to describe it, but the closest she thought she might get was _prey._   
  
“ _Hell no,_ ” she said, aloud, the act of speaking a meditation, air in and out of lungs. Whoever that Rage was was about to learn a thing or two-- thing one, she was here, thing two, she had a taser in her top drawer. Gripping it tight enough her knuckles paled, she forced her barrier up just enough to remind her legs that this fear was not theirs, so they needed to _work._ Following the Anger--the Need-To-Kill, Arrogance taken to its highest measure and the Desperate-Need-To-Keep-Living Fear across the hall, she almost laughed. Of course, it would be Nash’s door. Of course, someone would want him dead. The dual, warring emotions storming in her head kept the laugh buried in boiling panic and a warped version of triumph that made her own anger rise. The door was locked, and from the other side was the sound of something splintering.   
  
Cecile had never been one to kick down doors; that was for the police and the action heroes and people who wore steel toed boots. She was none of those, but she was the one with a spare key. She left it in the lock as she shouldered her way in, looking for the source of the comotion. A figure--bent, silhouette familiar but unrecognized-- had his back to her, pinning someone down, the panic-prey-fear and the bitter-bile-anger surged again, and Cecile struck, feeling every inch as quick as the Flash as she did, jamming the prongs of the taser into her target’s back. In any other case, there might have been hesitation, guessing the aggressor, but there was no mistaking it here. As the man slumped, the awful feelings he’d radiated faded, and the fear from the person he’d trapped started to ease, colored by relief.   
  
She’d expected Nash to be the one staring up at her, someone he’d antagonized crumpled on the ground. Instead, Nash Wells lay limp on the floor, and Cisco raised his hands to his throat, as if checking to be sure nothing circled it. His eyes were bright and wide, and Cecile reached out numbly to help him stand. He ignored her hand, his fingers probing his chest. There was relief and faint surprise, like he hadn’t expected to find the flesh whole.   
  
“Oh my god, Cisco,” Cecile said, dropping down beside him. He flinched away minutely, and Cecile could feel the panic still in him, racing through his veins. “Hey, breathe.”   
  
Not for the first time, Cecile wished she could invert her power, send out her own peace and calm instead of only taking in what others felt. But if wishes were pie, she’d have a lower grocery bill. She settled for patting Cisco’s arm, gently, hating the way he shied back. “Breathe,” she repeated, and then paused, frowning. There was no way she was leaving Cisco alone with Nash, even out like he was, but the only cuffs she had--as a precaution only--were meta cuffs in her office. “Ok,” she said, planning out loud. “Cisco, my office, ok? Can you stand? Did Nash hurt you?”   
  
Of course he had, that much was plain, but her abilities didn’t differentiate the kinds of hurting.   
  
“I--” Confusion rolled from the young man as clearly as anxiety and the lingering fear “It’s not Nash. Wait, you--He’s dangerous---”   
  
“I’ve got it,” she said, in her Yes OK, Mom Will Handle The Spider Oh God Why voice. He was getting anxious again, that genuine terror leeching off him and into the air. Now Cecile felt confusion of her own. If it wasn’t Nash, who was it? There wasn’t any black goop, and it hadn’t felt like Bloodwork or Grodd. Ushering Cisco to his feet, she steadied him, guiding him to her soft chair. Answers could wait. She grabbed the cuffs, and nudged her bag to Cisco. “There’s water in there. Drink it, and call STAR.” She wasn’t sure who was around, what with Wally and Barry and the Speed-whatever-it-was, and Ralph still being gone maybe? But someone would answer.   
  
Taser in one hand and cuffs ready in the other, Cecile reached forward with her senses before going back into the room--she was not going to get horror-movied here, no thank you. Tazing a person too much could lead to brain damage, she knew, but frankly, she didn’t care a whole lot about that risk when he’d just tried to kill Cisco. Also, it didn’t seem like it would be that much of a loss. Still, there was nothing from the other room, just the muted, feeble feelings that came from a person stone unconscious, not even dreaming. A relief. She cuffed Nash--or whoever it was-- and then used a spool of wire on a desk to tie his legs together, and stuffed him into the narrow closet for good measure. That part was tricky, he was much taller than she was, and all deadweight, but she managed.   
  
“Did you call?” she asked as she got back to Cisco, who was holding her waterbottle like a rag-oy, fussing with it instead of drinking.   
  
He nodded. “Caitlin’s coming. Where… is…”   
  
“Still unconscious, and I’ll know when he wakes up,” Cecile said, tapping the side of her head. “What did you mean, that wasn’t Nash? I thought the other earths were all…” she brought her hands together in a squishing motion.   
  
Oh, that was a mistake, Cisco was uncomfortable. The fear was still there, too. She waited, not wanting to push.   
  
“They were. I don’t.. I don’t know how. But it wasn’t Nash.”   
  
“ Cisco, who was it?” Cecile prompted, keeping her voice level, giving him control of the conversation while still getting the answers she needed. A tactic as old as lawyers, and for good reason. The wave of discomfort and nervousness intensified as Cisco looked over her shoulder towards the doorway, one hand coming up to pull his jacket closed over his chest.   
  
“Thawne.” His voice was a whisper. Cecile started. 

“Thawne? _Eobard Thawne_?”  
  


Cisco nodded, mutely.   
  
“The Thawne that’s supposed to be 20 years in the future. The one who manipulated Nora? Who killed Barry’s mom? _That_ Thawne?” 

  
“Yeah,” Cisco said, voice hoarse, and below the fear, Cecile felt a touch of bitterness, an edge of a secret. She frowned.   
  
“Cisco,” she said, reaching out, meaning to put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, still trembling. He flinched almost violently away from her, and she froze. “Cisco,” she repeated, careful to keep her voice calm. “You’re safe. Do you hear me? Caitlin’s coming, and you’re safe. What’s-- I know you’re scared, but there’s something else, too. You don’t need to say it, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”   
  
Cisco didn’t look up from his lap, where he clasped his shaking hands together.   
“... He killed me.”

Cecile froze. “You’re safe,” she said again, hoping Caitlin hurried up.   
  
“Not today,” Cisco whispered. “Before. It didn’t happen. But it did. The timeline…”   
  
“...Did...Crisis… fix that?” Cecile asked, wracking her brain. Where could that have happened--could it have? Hadn’t they said, Cisco saved Barry during Crisis, preventing the article they’d all fretted over for weeks? It didn’t make sense.   
  
“No,” Cisco said, hollow voiced. “Barry did. By accident. No one knew. He thought he was just saving Joe and Iris.” he paused “ And the city. He didn’t know. He didn’t even mean to time travel, that time. Didn’t even know he could. But… he did. And it changed…” he reached up, hand ghosting over his chest, pressing the jacket closer, like it was a shield. “But I remember. I don’t even have my powers anymore, but I remember.”

  
Cecile winced as bitterness chased the words, stinging her heart. She knew that particular flavor: a risk that didn’t pay-off, a sacrifice and nothing to show for it. The instinct to pull him close in a comforting hug, the way she held her daughters, rose up again inside her, and she hated the way it wouldn’t be a comfort at all, not unless he initiated it. Vulnerable had not been a word she associated with the confident and clever hero, but she saw it now, and realized that she’d only missed it before.   
  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t know,” she said, choosing her words carefully.   
Cisco shrugged. “ I, uh, don’t-- it was a long time ago. I don’t..talk about it. Not after… so, uh. It’s not your fault?” he ended on a questioning note, like he wasn’t sure why he was offering the token reassurance, or why she might want it.   
  
“You’ve just been carrying that around. Working with Sherloque and the rest….”   
He blew all the air out of his lungs in one loud sigh. “Yeah. It’s, uh. Not great? But none of them ever--well, mostly. There was that time Harry… but, uh. This was different. It was him. Not just..”   
“Not just a look alike,” Cecile finished “ I know we deal with the impossible but… that’s… a lot.”   
“No kidding,” Cisco rubbed his face.   
There was a clatter of footsteps, and with it a feeling of concern, a rush of love and worry, all tinted with a sharp edge of Protectiveness, another feeling Cecile could identify in her sleep. Cisco flinched, but she shook her head. “It’s Caitlin,” she said as the door rattled under a knocking hand. “ Cecile? Cisco? It’s Caitlin--”   
“Will you be ok?” Cecile asked as she stood, going to let Caitlin in.   
  
Hesitation wasn’t an emotion, but there was almost an emotion in pondering, in turning things over in the mind until they felt right. Cisco nodded. “I’ll be fine.”   
  
Cecile let Caitlin in, and let the doctor fuss over Cisco, thinking hard. Lies weren’t an emotion, either, but she could tell one when she heard it. Still, she could also feel the undercurrent of something wanting to be true. Cisco wasn’t fine, not by a long shot. But he would be, if everything Cecile could feel was true, and if she had anything to say about it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments make the world go round, especially while in isolation :)


End file.
